Lighting the Spark
by ConstantInfinity
Summary: A supposed rebel from District 8 has volunteered to participate in the 74th annual Hunger Games. He will be up against 23 other tributes, including Katniss and Peeta. Will he form an alliance to surivive, or die trying to be the victor? Slight KatnissxOC.
1. Chapter 1: Reaping

_**Author's Notes:**_

**The Hunger Games is owned by Suzanne Collins and Scholastic. I do not own anything related to The Hunger Games, besides the story. This is a non-profit fan-made story.**

_Tenshi: After watching The Hunger Games movie and reading the books, I have decided to make a fanfiction about it._

_Omega: Okay. Then how about we get started then?_

_Tenshi: All right._

_**Part 1: Promises**_

_**Chapter 1**_

The wind breezes through my ears, breaking my daydream. I've been having these random imaginations pop through my head ever since of last week. All of last week, many people have been talking about the Reaping. The Reaping occurs every year, and they pick one girl and boy from every district to participate in the infamous Hunger Games.

I have been reliving the events of what happened last year; my brother and a friend of his were chosen into the Hunger Games. I didn't bear to watch the show, because I didn't want to witness his probable death. And I was right to not do so; he was killed from being decapitated from one of the contestants, or tributes. After getting news of this, I have led my life to protect my family, by tending to their needs and supplying them with food and currency. Until that incident occurred…

My father was a leader of a rebellion in District 8, the district I live in. He caused some bad blood with the Capitol, as well as got a lot of other rebels to join him. I guess the Peacekeepers caught onto this, because they ended up breaking into our house during the night. Since we lived in a poor house, the light broke and kept us all in the dark. The Peacekeepers took this chance of an advantage and struck us all in the abyss of the night.

Someone struck me in the arm and shot it, leaving it immovable. They thought I would bleed out and die, so they left me and attacked the rest of my family. I then went unconscious. After I woke up, it was still dark out, so I got a match and lit a few candles. It was dim, but I could see clear as day that everyone was shot to death, and some were mutilated. I witnessed in horror the death of my family members and even saw the aftermath of their bodies.

Afterwards, I went to the hospital and got an operation for my arm. It is now robotic and is covered by skin. As for my family, I buried them next to our house, in honor of our legacy and their lives. And from that day, I promised myself that I wouldn't let anyone die like my family, so I now hunt for animals in the woods and give them to starving families.

I then feel a heavy weight on my right hand. I turn to look at what was causing an odd heaviness. I notice that I was holding a wrapped up bag of meat. I think it's deer meat. I'm not certain. I then remembered what I was supposed to be doing.

I decided to come outside and hunt to help a starving family in need. I should probably return to them before the Reaping happens. So I make my way out of the deep woods back to the gate border. Once I got to the gate, I make my way through the hole I cut into it so I could enter and exit without any harm.

Once I got through the gate, I sprint my way to the designated house I had to deliver the meat to. I knock on the door. No answer. I knock again. Still no answer. So I just drop the bag of meat at the doorway and started my way home. I wonder why they aren't at home. That's when it hit me.

"The Reaping." I mutter. I then make my way to the courtyard, dashing as fast as possible. I make it there, but I have apparently made it too late. Figures. I approach the Peacekeeper at the counter. She gives me an evil look, as if to say 'I know you.'

She then extends her hand and says, "Give me your hand." I follow her directions and give her my left hand. She pokes my finger with a sharp needle and draws the blood from it. The pain is brief and bearable, but it has a sting that lasts for what feels like an hour. She then places my finger on a piece of paper and shoos me away.

I make my way to the courtyard and I see separate columns of boys and girls, both genders on different sides from each other. I then took a notice of a woman standing at the center of the stage in between what looked like two giant clear balls on a podium connected to it, which was in front of the courtyard—away from me. I then took notice of her placing her hand in the right ball—which was full of paper—and opening it.

She clears her throat and says in the microphone, "Frank Lerek." I make a confused face and I look at the banners to see what the camera was showing to the people in the courtyard, as well as on live television. I then see a small built boy step out from the crowd of boys and walk to the stage. Remembering the promise I made, and how I must protect others so they don't die the same fate as my brother's, I run up to the empty center line and yell out at the top of the lungs, "Stop!"

Everyone turns to me and many of the boys' and girls' eyes widen of surprise. I then turned to the banners. They showed me standing there, with my working outfit. My outfit consisted of a black sleeveless velcro suit that reached from my neck to me feet. It also had a few thin layers of armor under it to protect myself from most cuts and bruises, and it also had multiple latches near my upper chest, ribs, waist, and thighs. I was also wearing the same type of boots, but with more plating. My neck and face was covered by a black ninja mask that covered my slightly long brown hair, and it had steel plating on my forehead and temple. At the end of my mask is the back of the long scarf that covered my neck. There was also a symbol on it, it was a mockingjay. I was also wearing black steel plated gauntlets that covered my wrists and hands.

My blue eyes were easily seen from the high definition camera, as well as the lightly tan tone of my skin.

Many people should have recognized me, even people from the Capitol. They considered it illegal by going past the gate and into the woods to illegally hunt for animals to give to the black market.

"Excuse me?" the make-up covered woman at the stage asks through the microphone. I can't back down now; I can only say the obvious at this point.

"I volunteer as a tribute!" I yell through my face mask, which hid my gritting teeth.

"A volunteer now? Then come up to the stage and present yourself." The woman says as she waves for me to go on the stage. I go there immediately, passing the boy who was reaped, but is now pulled away back into the crowd of boys.

I step on the stage and turn to the crowd of the young girls and boys. I slightly squint as I scan the audience and the parents that are at the sidelines. Some people's faces flushed in relief of me volunteering, especially the boys. But some of the girls and parents were showing their nervousness, mostly because since I am to be in the Hunger Games, and win, I would have to kill the other tributes, meaning the girl that is to be reaped, will die. I try to block out this thought, and to come back to reality. The voice of the powder-covered face of the woman pierced my ears and the microphone.

"What is your name?" she asks, putting the microphone to my mouth.

"Torian Crex." I answer bluntly.

"'Torian Crex.'" She repeats in the microphone. "If my sources are right, then you're the 'Hero of District 8', the 'Darkness' Angel'?"

"Yes."

"I see. Then let's have a round of applause!" the woman announces as she lightly claps her hands. The crowd instead, lifted three fingers in the air, as a sign of respect. The woman stops clapping and starts again.

"All right. Now for the ladies!" she then goes to the other ball and digs her hand in it and swishes each paper everywhere, to pick a random person. After a few long seconds of this, she finally grips a piece and takes it out of the ball. She clears her throat and clearly says in the microphone, "Marissa Grell."

_Marissa Grell,_ I think in my head, _It's that girl from the market._

I remember what happened that day as clear as glass. It was two years ago on a snowy month, and the food rations have been cut low from almost all of the local shops and restaurants. I was wearing my normal citizen outfit, which comprised of a gray dirty windbreaker, tattered jeans, and a plain white shirt that had smudges of recent dirt and dust that came across it. As usual I kept my Earnings, or hunted food, in a bag that I usual keep at my house. I was planning to bring my Earnings to a family I had seen starving. I somehow managed to hunt some pretty good rabbit and deer meat.

I walked through the 3 inch snow road, passing by other civilians who didn't care for my presence. Many of the families, especially those with small children, bundled up together to conserve and produce heat from their bodies. Others kept breathing into their hands, rubbing them together, and then stuffing them into their armpits to preserve their own warmth. I was barely affected by the snow, or even the heat—I trained myself to resist the harsh elements of this world—to an extent long enough for me to reach from the woods to my home.

I make my way to the market area, where most people go to trade for supplies, accessories, food, and the usual things a human would need to survive in a blizzard of a night. I make my way to the black market area, since this is where a starving woman of the family that was hungry traded at. But what caught my attention during my mission was a market called 'Treasures of the Underworld'. It was a small stand inside of the building that held all of the trading stands for those who wanted some smuggled goods.

The stand was well equipped with some very fine jewelry that would seem to shine through the darkest of nights. Gold tiaras, silver rings, diamond necklaces, and my favorite, a black facemask that had a mockingjay smelted into the steel at were the temples would be. My facemask at the time was a regular Shinobi facemask.

I was tempted to ask for it, but I remembered that I had a mission to complete, so I disregarded the mask and continued my search.

I wasn't able to find the woman, so I go outside of the huge wooden building to the outside porch of it. There I see a young girl near the porch on the snow that looked to be around 11 years old. She is huddled up next to a small fire, which I assumed she made, with a white blanket around her. I see her with a depressed look that she tried to hide, but the glow from the fire illuminates her slightly pale skin.

Although it may seem odd to others, I walk up to her and kneel in front of her, keeping a safe distance from the fire. The girl looks at me with fear and anxiety. She also stumbles back a bit, but the cold touch of the snow kept her from moving further. I take a sigh and reach into my Earnings bag and take out the biggest piece of deer meat I could find. The girl's eyes widen with amazement and surprise at the sight of the deer meat I pull out.

"Here." I said, handing her the meat. She looks at me with confusion, then back at the meat, and then back at me. "Its fine, just take it." I insist, shoving it a bit more closely to her. She cocks her eyebrow at me, and then swipes it out of my hand. She inspects it for a brief amount of time before she takes a small bite out of it. It was already cooked since I was planning to eat the piece for lunch, but I then remembered about the family and just forgot about eating it.

The girl's face gleams with satisfaction as she chomps into the meat for more of the succulent remnants of the deer. I live her in content of herself and decide to leave the bag of food for her. I planned on giving getting more Earnings to complete my task the next day, but she came up to me at the woods as I was hunting. I didn't plan on wearing my working suit because I knew I was only going to be there for a short amount of time. Baffled on how she sneaked past the fence, I ask why she was here.

She then pulls out a black facemask and hands it to me, standing on her tiptoes so she could nearly shove the clothing into my face. "Take it." She tells me. "It's a thank you gift, from my mother."

"Your mother?" I ask. I have surely not met her family, but I guess she took all the meat that was in the bag and fed her family with it. I can also easily deduce how she found me; since no market sells deer meat—they only sell chicken and cow meat—she must have assumed I went to the woods.

"Yeah. She wants to show you her gratitude with this present." She says. Since I don't really have a choice to be humble about gifts, I take the facemask in respect. I unfold the mask to find out it was the same one at the market.

"Thank you, both you and your mother." I say, looking at the mask in surprise.

"She thought you would like it, she said you were staring at it for quite a while." She says as she smiles.

We then introduce ourselves and talk aimlessly while sitting by the lake. Almost near the afternoon, I try to teach Marissa on how to wield daggers and how to throw them. She became a quick learner and could follow-through without any problems. She came to the woods frequently to meet up with me to talk and train.

During one of her sessions, she asks me, "Why are you teaching me these things anyway?"

I lean on one of the standing trees and ask her, "Do you know the quote, 'If you give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day, but if you teach a man to fish, he'll eat for a lifetime'?"

"Yeah." Marissa pants as she throws a dagger at the bull's-eye I marked on one of the trees.

"Well that's what I'm doing; teaching you how to hunt and kill so you can feed yourself and your family." I say as I get off the tree and head over to the dagger she just threw. I then throw it at her head and she dodges the dagger by moving of center. The dagger then hits the tree behind her, hitting another bull's-eye.

"You do know you're a little insane, right?" She sarcastically chuckles. She was able to kill her first Earning and her skills sharpened. But ever since my brother entered the Hunger Games and when my family was killed, we haven't seen each other since.

Talk about a reunion.

After a few seconds of waiting, Marissa steps out into the empty center line and walks to the stage, looking unfazed. She had short chocolate brown hair that reached to her shoulders, and she an old and dirty white buttoned shirt that had blue and black lines running vertically and horizontally on her shirt, in a pattern. She takes her spot next to the woman, near the ball full of the girls' names. The woman, again, requested for applause, but again, everyone held up three fingers.

"Now may our tributes shake their hands." The woman announced. I extended my hand out to her, trying to not come off as intimidating. She quickly placed her soft hand with mine and firmly gripped it. It was a grip that I haven't felt for more than a year. Although her hand smaller and smoother than mine, she has grown since we last met. Nostalgia and melancholy whirl inside my thoughts, nearly churning up my insides.

It has been a long time since we even spoke; we haven't even said 'Hello' to each other yet. So I try to input my feelings into our handshake without even talking. So I firmly grip her hand as well and proceed to shake as if it was our normal greeting.

And when we shook our hands, I could feel and sense the emotion she is displaying within her shake. I sensed no fear or distress like how she first met me, but trust and loyalty. I give off the same aura within my shake as well. We then loosen our grip and look back at the audience.

As we turn back, the usual anthem of Panem plays. I pay no distinct attention to the jingle, but I shoot a glance over to Marissa, who, coincidentally, shot a glance at me as well. She looks at me with a faint worry in her eyes and I try to look as confident as I could-but in the inside, I was still as worried as her.

But I also notice something on her shirt that I have overlooked.

It was a mockingjay pin.


	2. Chapter 2: Jabberjay

_**Author's Notes:**_

**The Hunger Games is owned by Suzanne Collins and Scholastic. I do not own anything related to The Hunger Games, besides the story. This is a non-profit fan-made story.**

_Tenshi: Let's just get to it shall we?_

_**Chapter 2**_

It didn't take too long for the anthem to pass. After the Reaping Marissa and I were sent into custody. I wanted to talk to her, at least make an icebreaker since after this crazy situation, but we were led into the Justice building in different groups. Multiple Peacekeepers kept both of us from moving anywhere except forward. Many of them piled around me, thinking and anticipating the moment where I would escape from this ordeal, but I know better than to be coward enough to quit now.

We were lead into separate rooms. Once the Peacekeepers led me to my room, they shut the doors and left me there alone. I sit on the bench inside the room as I contemplate everything that has happened and predicting what could happen in the Hunger Games. I look around the room, examining the fine texture that the architects designed upon the walls and floor. They all looked to be made out of mahogany, mostly the floor. The reddish-brown color adapts well with the feeling of solicitation, and somehow relaxation, of this room. I take a deep sigh, inhaling the fine fumes of the recently painted wood.

I calm myself and meditate, saving my energy where it really counts: The Hunger Games. I can't afford myself to die at the first day; I'll have to play it with more thought, strategy. Cunning. It seemed odd for me to think of playing discreet, but I can't underestimate the other tributes, especially with Marissa at my side.

The first one to enter my room is the boy that was reaped, Frank Lerek, and a woman, who I'm guessing is his mother. They both look frail and weak, probably starvation. They both also look young for their age as well. I look away, giving an expression of pain. If only I could have helped them earlier that they wouldn't look so fragile.

Frank ran up to me, stopping in front of me. He then got on his knees and bowed down, a sign of respect that was used even before the rebellion. He had messy blond hair and nearly torn up clothing. His mother had black hair that was tied in a small ponytail.

"Thank you, Hero, for taking my place in the Hunger Games." Frank said, as he kept his head down to the floor. "I don't know how we could repay you!"

"There's no need for that." I say as I cross my arms. "Knowing that you don't have to die now is already a payment enough."

Frank lifts his head with awe and surprise, his brown eyes showing a reflection of me. He then jumps up and says, "No. We will repay you somehow." He thinks for a moment and says, "We'll keep in charge of the rebellion while you're gone!"

I shake my head as I shake my hand in disapproval saying, "There's no need for that. I don't to burden you while you seem to be having your own affairs."

"No, we can do it!" Frank bursts with excitement. He then turns to his mother. "Right Mom?"

"Yeah, we'll manage." The mother weakly said, also giving a slight cough.

"Well," I give it some thought. _I don't want to stress them with a rebellion, but they seem very insistent on it. I don't want them to have bounties on their heads, or have Frank get reaped in the Hunger Games again. But they're so willing to put their life into my hands… _"OK." I sigh, thinking if this was the right choice or not. "But don't work yourselves too hard, all right?"

Frank nods with cheerfulness. "Yeah!" He seems very ecstatic about it. Maybe he wants to tell his friends he leads a rebellion? Or he might want to just be in my shoes for once? If so, then he would have to go in the Games. I shake my head, chuckling at myself.

A Peacemaker then comes in and alerts Frank and his mother that they're time is up.

"OK!" Frank nods. "We'll see when you get back!" He then leaves out the door very energetically. His mother laughs and coughs at the same time.

"He's so full of life!" She mutters. Although I can easily hear her, I ask her, "What?" She just waves 'Never mind' and chuckles again. She then smiles at me as she walks out the door.

The door then closes behind her and I am in an intermission. I meditate on what I just told Frank and his mother just earlier. I'm not sure if they're physically healthy for the role, but they seem capable and motivated enough. His mother's tiresome eyes really stuck out from her beautiful, yet ghastly, appearance. They both had black outlines around their eyes, most likely from not sleeping well; nightmares and such.

I meditate to regain my energy for another minute until my door is opened again. I open my eyes and look to see who it is. It was the woman from the black market stand, Marissa's mother. She was 32, but she looked very healthy. Her olive skin, long brown hair, and her slim figure would be enough to deem her the prettiest woman in District 8. Now that I think about, Marissa and her mother have a striking resemblance to each other; brown hair, olive skin, slim figure, a smart mouth, and a couple other things. Marissa told me of her mother's name, Carrie.

She walked in the room, the door shutting behind her. I stand to greet her. She was nearly 2 inches shorter than me. She has basically been like a mother to me since I met her and Marissa; cooking for me, handing me money, and lending Marissa with me to train for a couple of hours. We actually haven't seen each other for only a few months. But still, seeing her now makes me feel at peace.

She throws her arms around me and squeezes tightly. I hug her back, remembering the memories of laughter and happiness. Her scent of strawberry reminds me of my mother, who loved strawberries and all sorts of fruits. I feel like holding her for her whole visit, but she probably came here to do more than hug me. After a few long seconds, we loosen our embrace.

"It's been too long, Torian. Or should I say, 'Hero'?" Carrie smirks. Here comes her usual attitude, but it is still loveable to some extent. Everyone seems to enjoy her carefree nature and teenage-like persona every now and then.

"It's Torian, Carrie." I say, trying to keep my act up for the Games. She cocks an eyebrow and keeps her smirk. It has always been her talent for looking through peoples' lies and facades. I always wondered why she never joined the Capitol instead of trading in the black market. But I never dared to ask, knowing she might avoid the question anyway.

"You've really grown haven't you, tough guy?" She sarcastically says as she smacks my right tricep. My arm is still not used to being hit ever since the surgery, but a soft, unintentional blow like that would only give me a small sting.

"Hunting changes you." I shrug. It honestly did. Hunting gave me an outlet to use to get rid of stress and to escape the world. When I'm hunting, I only feel myself, my sword, and my prey. Nothing else. Well, except for the occasional Marissa. But before that, it was just me and nature in a heated competition.

"Uh-huh." She says, unconvinced. "But anyway, I'm here to tell you one thing." She says, now looking serious.

"Really?" I ask as I cross my arms. "What is it?"

"I want you to protect Marissa, keep her safe." I look to the ground, dismayed. How am I supposed to protect when one of us is going to kill each other? I don't want to kill her, but if I die, then District 8 might make an uprising. Which one must I sacrifice; my best friend or my people?

"Isn't there another way for us to both live?" I ask.

"If there is, then I wouldn't know about it." Carrie says as she nervously scratches the back of her neck. "But not only do I want her back, but I want you to win too!"

I think look at her surprised, in disbelief. Both of us? Win? How would we pull that off? Many questions ramble inside of my head that it is almost hard for me not to scream. But I need to keep a cool head and to try to follow through the motions, as well as carve my own path. My training has prepared me for this, and I am ready to fight!

"So kick some Tribute and Capitol ass in there!" Carrie cheers as she fist pumps the air. She always gave Marissa and me the courage beating the odds, even if they weren't in our favor. She was a mother that was proud of her daughter. She is a woman that I can respect.

"I will." I say, nodding my head.

"Good." She says, smiling. "And one more thing." She then dug through a black satchel that around the right side of her waist. I haven't seen before, but I'm pretty sure after Marissa learned how to hunt, she traded some of the Earnings for money.

"What is it?" I ask.

Carrie then pulls out a pin of a bird. It doesn't look like a mockingjay and it looks smaller than one. I quickly deduce that it is a jabberjay, a bird that the Capitol had made to spy on the rebels. The rebels quickly discovered this and made the jabberjays send the Capitol back lies. The Capitol realized this and abandoned the jabberjays in the wild to die. But the jabberjays mated with some of the female mockingbirds, and thus the mockingjay was made.

"It's a pin of a jabberjay. I thought it would represent you and Marissa together pretty well. You know, like the Ying and Yang." Carrie says, handing me the pin.

"Thank you. I think it would go well." I say, taking the pin and putting it in my pocket. "But I think it would be odd for a rebel wear a pin of an animal that was made by the Capitol."

"Don't get too self-conscious about that!" She says, waving her hand around in disagreement. Her usual behavior would make me laugh, but since I'm going to the Hunger Games, I probably won't even have the time to smirk or chuckle.

"Trust me, I won't." I mutter. Suddenly, the Peacekeeper slams open the door to tell Carrie that her time is up.

"I know, I'm comin'!" She says, irritated by their presence. She looks back at me and says, "Good luck, all right?" I nod at her, promising that I will bring Marissa back alive, along with me. Carrie then waves goodbye and quickly walks out of the door. The Peacekeeper slams the door again. As usual, I sit down and meditate on what happened.

Protect Marissa and come back home alive with her. The Capitol surely won't allow this in the Games. The rule was always to fight and survive until one person was left standing. The only way for us to come back alive is to escape, and unfortunately, that doesn't seem like a viable option. But if it was to come down to us two, would I cut her down, or would she be the one to kill me? These run through my head until I my head hurts. At this point, I tell myself to calm down and to only keep it as a last resort.

There were a lot more visitors that came by. Most of them must have been starving families I helped in the past because they seemed very brittle and struggling. I wish I could help them, but I have to get past this obstacle first. They wished me good luck and to win this year's Hunger Games. They all seemed pretty confident in me, saying, 'You should be able to beat the Careers without even taking a scratch!'

From my knowledge and previous hearings, Districts 1, 2, and 4 were the main Career Districts. So I'm going to have to keep myself well trained and prepared for a major clash with others. I've been hearing that the tributes from District 2 are ruthless, cold-blooded killers. But tough killers are slow and are usually wide-open rather than swift and effective. But yet again, I can't underestimate anyone, not even Marissa.

After the meetings, the Peacekeepers drag us out from the Justice Building to a taxi. Marissa and I take our seats in the back of the car while the chauffeur drives us to the train station. Although it only took about 10 minutes, it felt like an eternity. I stare outside the window of the car, taking my last look at the District. The memories strike back into the corners of my cranium and crawl their way into my mind. The memories don't make me break into tears, but it does flush me over with multiple emotions.

But Marissa on the other hand, is trying her best to wipe away her tears with her hands. I'm not able to read minds, but I'm willing to guess that she is reimagining something very important to her. I don't try to interfere with her memory, so I just let her pour out her feelings. She stops after a few minutes before we get to the train station, which is good because it was flooded with many reporters and possibly journalists. I do my best to just keep looking forward and to not pay any attention to the crowd that hounds at me so loud that they could possibly risk breaking my eardrums.

I am able to take a brief look of myself on television on one of the banners. _Just like the ones in the Reaping_, I think to myself. I can also see Marissa, who is following closely behind me. She tries to give a look of indifference, but a gleam of nervousness goes across her eyes.

Once we get to the train, it is rather large and metallic. We both climb up the steps near the entrance, but are forced to stare into nothingness—so the cameras can get an image of us leaving the district—before we are able to go inside the large steel bullet. At least, that's what it feels like after we get in and the train starts. I stagger a back a step, but I am able to regain my balance and adapt to the new sensation.

It's been my first time inside of this type of transportation, most obviously. I spent most of my life running to my destinations, due to my family not having a car or any type of vehicle. Running has become more of an exercise; it's more of a routine now. I never get tired, and I never got overweight.

Plus, District 8 isn't really known for being the industrial type of town, except for a few factories. That was District 13, well before it was destroyed. District 8 is more known for being a major trade network. There are many merchants in the market areas, especially the underworld markets. Even if they are breaking the law, they do pretty well to cover their tracks. But not many people go to the trading center during the winter, due to the extreme climate and temperature.

After a minute of adjusting to the train, the makeup covered women comes up to us to greet us. She introduces herself as Trisha Garnet. She takes a wet rag and rids her face of the overused makeup. She actually looked more attractive without the makeup, revealing her true, glistening white skin. She had straight, long black hair and—now easily seeable—green eyes. She sighs in relief and says how she hates wearing makeup. She rants for about 5 minutes while me and Marissa sit in the cushioned seats in the lounge of the train.

To be honest, the train has more of an appearing and futuristic look than the Justice Building. I'm not in particular love with it, but I don't hold any resent towards it. The furniture looks rather intriguing and abstract in comparison to my furniture. I think it is supposed to represent the uniqueness and multi-personality of the Capitol, but it doesn't even suffice as eye candy to me.

Trisha then dismisses us and shows us to our separate rooms. They are both well-equipped with a bedroom, a clothing area, and a personal bathroom. I decide to take a shower, to refresh myself and to ponder about what might happen next. They say once we get to the Capitol, we'll have our own rooms to stay in while we train for the Games. After a week or two, we'll be sent to the arena called the Cornucopia.

I take off my clothes and turn on the shower as I enter it. The hot and steamy water compliments my stressed out muscles and skin. Since plumbing hasn't been very well to have premade hot water, I haven't felt such a luxury before. The closest to a shower is near a small waterfall near the woods. It's also another source for fresh water, but everyone just gets the filtered water from the Capitol.

After the shower, I get the new clothes on the counter in my bedroom. I wear it and look at my reflection in the mirror in the same room. It's a black t-shirt with a logo called 'N7' that was in red and white. For my lower body are black khaki pants. I decide to take the gray windbreaker that was neatly folded on the made bed. It looked exactly like my own windbreaker at home, but cleaner. I wear it over my N7 shirt and make my way for the day.

I then see the pin of the jabberjay next to where the clothes used to be. I grab it and remember about Carrie and what she said. _To protect Marissa._ I sigh, wondering about the promise myself. So I end up taking the pin and pacing it on the upper right side of my windbreaker, near my upper chest.

The door is suddenly opened by none other than Marissa Grell. She is wearing a white tank-top and plain denim jeans.

"Torian." She shows an expression of worry and sadness as she walks into my room. She shuts the door behind her and then runs into my chest. She presses her face into my new shirt and wets it with her tears. She sobs quite loudly, so I try to comfort her by holding her tightly, letting her let out her stress. She cries for a few minutes, letting out what she bottled up when she was in the taxi. I then find ourselves sitting next to each other on my bed. I slouch forwards as she slightly bends forward as well.

"It's been so long since we even talked." Marissa says, slightly smiling. Not only has her looks changed, but her voice sounds more mature now. I can easily remember the times when she would complain with her high-pitched girly voice. "But when I saw you volunteer for that boy, I thought to myself, 'That's Torian for you.'" She chuckles.

I give a slight laugh, considering that maybe she hadn't changed all that much. "I have really wanted to meet with each other again, but not like this." I say, looking away in dismay. I am able to see her paying with her thumbs in my peripheral vision.

"But at least we have each other." She says with a faint smile. "Yeah, and we're going to kick some Career ass!" Marissa's eyes now gleam with a spark of life and energy. It is very much like her to always become energetic and excited. She was always an optimist about things, but she can also be very stubborn and lazy at some points.

"Yeah," I say before I grab her shoulder next to me, "And we'll both come out as victors." I give her a smile to confirm this promise. Promise. I've heard this word so much that I'm starting to believe others think they may be hollow. Their fault if they want to be cynical and such.

At that moment, the door opens again and reveals Trisha. But this time, she is wearing a towel around her body.

"Supper will be ready in ten minutes. Don't be late or else your dinner will be my leftovers!" Trisha says casually as she walks in the room. She comes in dripping wet and seems to care less about the fact that she might risk tripping and being naked. But since I'm pretty sure she's aware of this, I keep my mouth shut.

"Hey Hero, do you mind if I use your shower? The hot water seems to be off in mines." She asks, digging a finger into her ear.

"Um, not at all, I guess. Take your time." I say unsurely. I'm rather indifferent about her situation, so I didn't mind her using mines for a bit. I could care less about her body, and even less if she needs to use my bathroom. I look over to Marissa, who looks rather upset.

"Is there something wrong?" I ask her worriedly. She rubs her temple and groans in pain and frustration. A headache maybe?

"It's nothing. My head is just killing me. I'm going to take an aspirin and rest until dinner." She groans. She then excuses herself and leaves my room without saying goodbye. It's understandable. She probably had a rough day before the Reaping, and she probably has a lot on her mind, so I don't blame her. I rest on my bed until I am awakened by a naked Trisha, who forces me to get out of bed. I leave my room and head to the dining table, which is made out of glass.

There were many plates of delicacies and exotic food that I haven't seen before. There was steak, turkey, vegetables, and seafood. I eat at least more than one plate of each type of food with as much poise and etiquette I was taught by Carrie. But, ironically, Marissa stuffs as much food in her face and gorges herself with almost everything. She probably, like me, hasn't every tasted these types of foods before.

Trisha laughs as Marissa provides a show of entertainment for us three and Trisha discusses our schedule tomorrow, although she isn't enthusiastic about it. I inquire about this and she tells us that she would rather live a life of thrills and excitement. Marissa jokes about letting Trisha take her place in the Hunger Games, but Trisha replies, "I already have."

"What do you mean?" I ask, interested in this topic. I didn't know that Trisha was reaped in the Hunger Games, nor did I even think she would survive. But my talking to her is proof enough that she did.

"I mean that I've been in those dreaded Games once already. And let me tell you kid, it ain't as fun as the show it in the television." Trisha says irritatingly as she waves her fork that has a piece of steak on it up and down.

"I never thought it was fun." Marissa says.

"Anyways, I think that's enough for today." Trisha says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She then stands up from her chair. "You two should watch the other Tributes' Reaping ceremonies. Maybe get knowledge of what you're up against." She then straightens her shirt and walks to another room inside the many trams of the train.

"I guess we may as well." Marissa says, standing up so we can head to a place where they are showing the earlier reapings. We finally find one part of the train that is showing the recaps of the reapings. We watch as the videos drag on throughout each district. They were made to make it like you were watching the reapings at that district.

A few tributes are edged to the back of my mind: a large, fit boy from District 2 and a redhead girl who moved like a snake from District 5. Then it showed the reapings from District 8. Trisha's over-powdered face makes me wince, even if the camera isn't so close. Before I showed up to the name calling, there was an opening where the mayor calls out previous victors of the Hunger Games of our district. It was Trisha and a man named Richter Treiarch. She calls Frank's name and the camera zooms in on his overly distraught and surprised face. I then step in and volunteer myself with my working outfit on. I walk onto the stage and say my name to Trisha, who was acting cheerful so she can seem happy-go-lucky.

Marissa's name is then called on and the camera zooms in on her unfazed face. I don't know why she was very unsurprised though. Maybe it was after my appearance, or maybe she was trying to put up her 'tough girl' act. She walks up to the stage and takes her place next to the ball of names. We then shake hands and the anthem of Panem comes on.

The other districts' reapings play after ours. I clearly remember the last three tributes that were reaped. A girl from District 11 that looks like she's twelve years old. I feel sorry for her when she is reaped and nobody volunteers for her, besides the whistling of the wind, there was no sound. The last two were from District 12. Their names I could remember since they were the last I heard; Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.

The girl, Katniss Everdeen, had volunteered for her sister, Primrose. We both did the same thing, volunteered our lives to protect someone. I saw the look at her and Primrose's face: distraught and shocked. When Katniss volunteered, Primrose tried to stop her, but a man came from behind her and pulled Primrose away from Katniss. When Peeta was called on, he looked shocked and astonished as well. He walks up to the stage and he and Katniss shake hands. Just like in District 8, the audience doesn't applaud, instead the hold up three fingers. Marissa and I look at each other with a look of astonishment, surprised at the audience's response to the district's Tributes and how Katniss volunteered for her sister. The program ends and Trisha finds us watching the recap.

"What do you think?" She asks. We turn to her and she is crossing her arms with a man who looked to be in his early 30's. He was wearing a lab coat and a white shirt under it. He was wearing black tuxedo pants and rectangular eyeglasses. His short blond hair was parted into points on three sides of his head: the front near the bridge of his nose, the left, and the right.

"It was very interesting…" I vaguely say, just waiting for Trisha to identify the man next to her. I actually have seen him before, near the stage witnessing the reapings in our district. He was very silent though, not even making a sound.

"I see. Now you know what you're up against?" Trisha asks, probably just stalling to make me angry and impatient. I then cross my arms and tap my foot repeatedly on the floor, trying to show that I am growing weary of this useless questionnaire.

"I believe we're ready, but I must ask; who is that man next to you?" I finally ask, pointing my finger to the blond man. He looks at me with a glare that would probably be deemed as intimidating by any other person than me. I shoot him back a glare, showing that I am not easily frightened.

"Oh him." Trisha says, as if she didn't know he was there. "He's Richter Treiarch, your mentor." I remember now, he won the 54th Hunger Games. They didn't explain how, but that he just did. It's the same for when Trisha won the 60th Hunger Games.

"Happy to make your acquaintance." He says drunkenly, as he wobbles back and forth unevenly, he holds out his hand for me to shake. But before my hand can even make contact with his, he immediately collapses to the floor, unconscious.

"Looks like the doctor has become intoxicated…" Trisha jeers. She then picks up Richter by the arms and slowly drags him out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3: One Night Stand

_**Author's Notes:**_

**The Hunger Games is owned by Suzanne Collins and Scholastic. I do not own anything related to The Hunger Games, besides the story. This is a non-profit fan-made story.**

_Tenshi: Let's see how this chapter ends up, shall we?_

_**Chapter 3**_

It takes me a few seconds to recover my sense of the odd situation that had just taken place. Our mentor has just collapsed into a drunken coma and has been dragged out on the floor to another compartment of the train. Marissa and I look at each other in confusion on what just transpired. I may as well go help Trisha then.

"I'll go see what's wrong with him." I say as I walk to the door. "Go and get some rest." I don't want to bother her with a drunken mentor at night, especially since we got a lot going on tomorrow. She has had a very tiresome day; she should get the chance to sleep well tonight.

"But Torian…" She pleads, probably wishing to spend more time for catching up, but we won't have enough time to reminisce for the rest of the night. We'll have to be ready for our opening ceremonies, and later, the training.

"I'll be fine." The door automatically opens for me due to the latest technology. "See you in the morning." I then step into the room and the door closes behind me. I follow the skid markings that leave a trail from the room to Richter's bedroom.

I enter his bedroom and see that Trisha is placing him to rest. She puts the blanket over him as I walk to the bed. She smiles at the passed out Richter, shaking her head. I was actually planning on talking about any strategies with Richter, thinking that Trisha might have woken him up already, but she had only tucked him in his sheets. I used to do that with my younger siblings, mostly because they were afraid of the dark. I guess relatives do share similar traits.

"Trisha." I softly say, trying to make sure I don't awaken the drunken Richter. I catch her attention when she turns her head to me. She looks at me with surprise. She probably didn't expect me to come and help her. Of course, I wasn't planning on helping her with an unconscious drunkard, but to actually speak business. I can talk to Richter in the morning, granted he doesn't get a hangover and pukes.

"Torian." She mutters. She gives a faint smile, as if she was about to chuckle. She starts to stand from the bed, but Richter's hand reaches out and grabs her wrist. She turns back to Richter, startled. I am startled too, but, like I said before, I am not so easily intimidated. Richter tugs her arm a bit a mutters something inaudible due to my distance.

I can barely hear Trisha whisper, "Get back to sleep, moron." She says it mockingly, yet caringly as well. It reminds me of my mother. My brother would come home with an award to show to us. My mother would sometimes tease him about embarrassing him by putting it up the wall and calling him 'My Little Boy' in front of her friends. Although she was joking, she was still proud of him and cared for him as well.

Things were a little different for me. Since our family wasn't exactly rich, I was in charge of getting all of our foods, which were basically the Earnings. She had high expectations in me that she knew that I would soon surpass. Although she may have nagged and scolded my occasionally, it meant that cared for me as well. It was one of the things that kept driving me forward; that gave me the will to carry on, no matter the odds. After their deaths, Carrie reminded me of this.

She wasn't my mother, but she took her role into being it anyways. Her kind deeds aren't ones I can't repay with a simple 'Thank you,' or even money. But she didn't want any sort of repayment because she already had everything she needed, she said. She was referring to Marissa. I know that every parent should be proud of their children, especially those who do great and extraordinary things.

Marissa was the only closest person I had to a friend. But she was also like a little sister to me; always seeking challenges, yet she still needed guidance. But I can say that ever since a year ago, she has grown to realize that. The way she acts now is a lot more mature than when we used to hunt and train in the woods. It was all fun and games, but now we will realize that not all games are exactly 'fun'.

Trisha shakes off Richter's hand and he drifts off again. Once Trisha gets in front of me, she says, "You want to talk don't you? How about somewhere more private?" The first thought that pops into my head is, _Wait, what? _But I then find myself suggesting on going to my bedroom.

"What a bold place to consider, but whatever." She starts to the door and I step out of her way. The door opens as she turns to me and says, "Let's go." I nod and follow her to my bedroom. Once we get there, she plops herself onto the bed. I sit on the edge of the bed with my back turned to her. I breathe deeply so I can regain my bearings.

I suddenly feel the odd sensation of something pressing up against my back. I then feel and see the arms and hands of Trisha wrap around my chest. She moves them up and down my chest while breathing near my ear. I get the feeling of temptation flooding through my body in a process which most hormonal teenagers my age go through whenever they get 'excited'.

"So is this what you wanted to talk about it?" Trisha says seductively into my ear, while breathing heavily. The expression of seriousness and despair is still on my face, while my body ironically craves for Trisha's body. Strangely enough, I have already seen her naked but I didn't feel the same enticement as I do now. Although in my current state, I am able to make a response.

"N-not necessarily." I stutter. I then realize that that was probably the worst response I could have stated. If I was able to move right about now, I would slap myself so hard that I would fall unconscious.

"Oh really?" She says. I can imagine her giving a devilish smile just before she grips my jacket and pins me on the bed. I shake my head, recovering from getting hit on the wooden backboard behind the pillows while I was being pinned. My vision comes back to me and I see Trisha's face lips nearly inches from each other. Our noses are touching and we are breathing heavily. The stench of alcohol lingers throughout her breath, making it seemly obvious that she's still drunk. My eyes travel farther down her body and I see that she was topless.

She smiles and says, "Is this what you had in mind?" I turn my head to the side, trying to resist the Temptation. I do my best in trying to hide my hormones, but Trisha can clearly see through it.

"N-No!" I force myself to say while looking away from Trisha's stimulating body. This event has caused my anxiety to grow a lot quicker than fighting a wild animal. It felt odd, yet right. The encouragement of Temptation. I try to barricade the thoughts of it, until Trisha speaks again.

"Then what about this?" She then starts breathing and saying sweet-nothings into my ear as she touches my groin. After a couple seconds of pleasure, my mind returns to me and I snap out of Temptation.

"W-what am I doing?" I say before I throw Trisha off of me and quickly get off the bed. Multiple thoughts rush to my head. _What just happened? Why did I stop? Why was she doing this?_ As I am pondering, I see Trisha buttoning up her shirt and getting up from the bed. She walks to me and I look away, embarrassed.

"You know Kid; if you didn't want to do 'It' then you could have been descriptive." She sighs as she rubs her neck. To be honest, I could have, but it felt almost impossible for me to say anything. It was as if I was in a trance that I couldn't escape or object to.

"I know. Sorry." I apologize. I shouldn't be apologizing, especially since she was the one who came onto me. But I don't know exactly why I am apologizing; I guess I needed to get an apology off of my chest anyways. I wasn't able to give Marissa or Frank one. Not even one for my brother or parents.

"Don't be." She says. "It was fun while it lasted." She paused, rolling her shoulders back before she started again. "Now, what was it wanted to talk about?"

"I thought I could ask you about anything relating to the Hunger Games; the Tributes, the Arena, the environment." I tell her. She thinks to herself for a moment, probably gathering old memories she buried inside her mind years ago.

"All right, I guess I can do that." She says. She makes her way back to the bed and sits on the edge of it while I went to the wall close to it and lean up against it.

Trisha ends up discussing about the main winning Tributes, the Careers. I already knew about it, so I tell her to skip it but she reassures me to not overlook anything. So she explains which districts that the Careers are in and who are the Careers for this year's Hunger Games. She explains that they all have combat expertise and that some of them spend almost all of their life preparing for the Hunger Games.

After that discussion, she fills me in on how the opening ceremonies will play out. She says that we'll have to be going on chariots and riding out to in the middle of a long, straight pathway that is in between a two large audiences on both sides. She says our stylists will design us with clothing that represents our district. Like how District 12 majors in mining, so they dress up like coal.

She then discusses what'll happen during the training. She says the training will go by for a few days before we are given an evaluation by the Capitol. She tells me that I'll have no problem getting a high score, but I don't want to get too cocky. She then tells me that after the evaluation day, we are sent to the arena. She says the starting point in the arena will be at the Cornucopia. She tells me to remind me and Marissa about not going to inside of the Cornucopia. I inquire why and she tells me that the Bloodbath, a major killing spree in the first few minutes on the first day, will surely kill us, so she tells me to ask Richter about how to survive the Bloodbath tomorrow morning.

She then explains that the environment will be like a jungle, the woods almost. She says the environment changes according to the Gamekmakers' decisions. She warns me about the animals and the possibility of finding poisonous foods or Tracker Jackers. Tracker Jackers are another Muttation made by the Capitol. They were used to make nests of them near rebel hideouts. The say Tracker Jacker stings can be extremely lethal and the venom will cause hallucinations. I take note of to stay the hell away from them.

"I guess that's about as much as I can tell you, Kid." Trisha yawns, stretching her body up then dropping it on my bed. I don't know how long we have been in this room, but I'm guessing it lasted for almost an hour and a half. I feel sluggish and my eyes feel like they are about to pop out. I rub my temple and stand next to Trisha's tired body.

"Thanks. It'll help me and Marissa a lot." I bow in respect. I am truly grateful for what she did. But it seemed odd, she was our announcer for District 8 but she's telling me on how to survive through the Hunger Games instead of Richter. She probably knows more than him, but it would be a lot better for me to ask what both of them know.

"Yeah, yeah." She waves, shooing me away. But I can't honestly sleep in any other room, so I just ignore her gesture. Although I find it funny how I invite to my room and she just takes the bed for herself. I try to pick her up from the bed so she can get to her room, but she refuses every time I try carry her, rolling her body to the other side of the bed. After a few more attempts of this, I finally declare that this was futile and pointless, so I just take off my jacket and shirt and I lie down on the side closest to me.

Trisha giggles, probably still intoxicated, and places herself close to me. I sigh and try to keep a reasonable distance from her. We both pull the blanket over us and I turn off the light. The darkness causes my body to stiffen in fright. I remember the incident that occurred with my family quite vividly. The thoughts of them come swirling back like a tornado, every memory hitting me like a gust of wind. The memoirs of my brother, my father, and my mother are like watching them all get executed at the same time.

At this point I am restless; my teeth are gritting and my body is shaking in fear. I stay in this horrid state for what seems to be an hour. My thoughts are interrupted by the warm touch of Trisha on my back again. But this time, it wasn't for some foul play, or at least it didn't feel intended. I turn my head slightly to see a dim vision of Trisha leaning on my back, sleeping. _She must have drifted off while I was thinking,_ I think, _She is quite an odd woman, but as long as she's willing enough to keep me alive, I'm fine with it._

My body loosens up from the warmth comfort of Trisha and I start to drift away into the abyss known as my conscious. I wake up to find myself sleeping alone in my room. I can't tell what time it is, but according to the brightness of the sun, it must be a little after the early morning. I get off of bed, take a hot shower, and put on a white shirt and the same pants and windbreaker I wore from last night.

I walk to the dining room, where Richter and Trisha seem to be taking their last night drinking pretty hard. Trisha is sitting down, drinking some tea and water, while Richter is trying to swallow down his broth without puking. They both have bloodshot eyes and messed up hair. Richter's mouth seems to have some stains of what looks like recent vomit and alcohol around his lower lip and chin.

"Good morning, Torian." Trisha plainly says while wiping off the recent drops of the tea she just sipped. I can tell by her appearance and slightly impatient tone that she is having a terrible morning. She may have already thrown up a few times, but I wouldn't know since there aren't any stains around her mouth or shirt.

"Good morning." I answer plainly as well. I'm not having a good morning since what will be going on for today. Today is the opening ceremonies and Marissa and I will have to be ready to wear odd and uncomfortable costumes. Trisha has explained to me that previous tributes have had to wear very little clothing, like they were naked. I only hope that I don't have to display any sort of action like that to the public. Ever.

"Good morning, Torian!" Shouts a very cheerful voice. It was the voice of Marissa. Richter stops sipping his broth and covers his temple in pain. Trisha cringes and nearly spills her tea on her white dress. I would only understand their pain if I ever get a hangover. I turn to Marissa, who is standing next to me. She is wearing her tank-top and the same pair of jeans from last night.

"Good morning, Marissa." I tell her. I don't really have any other response to that. I then remember how I told her to go to sleep last night. I wonder if she really did or not. She could have been here, just sitting and thinking in the dark. Marissa then greets Trisha, who gives her a simple, "Good morning," and Richter, who gives a simple nod of acknowledgement while sipping his broth. Trisha then proposes that Marissa and I should eat breakfast. We don't object to this and we eat the food that seemed to have already been prepared for us.

I ate most of meat and poultry that was laid out there. I ate slowly this time, making sure I won't get a stomach ache during the opening ceremonies. I ate some of the vegetables, making sure I'll also be healthy for the Games. I look over to Marissa, who is eating rather quickly, as if she has been starved for a week. I tell her to slow down, and she lessens her speed, only to start eating at a face pace again.

We eat for about thirty minutes and we decide to stop. I feel somewhat full, while Marissa lies back in her chair and sighs in relief while patting her stomach. I look over to Richter, who has already finished his broth. His eye gleams with a dash of seriousness and vacancy.

"I believe we haven't been acquainted before." Richter says. _Funny enough, we already had last night, _I think,_ When you were drunk._ But since he has already forgotten, he extends his arm across the table, over the food. Marissa gives me a look that basically says her and my thoughts, about how we already met him last night. "I'm Richter Treiarch." He says. We shake his hand anyways, and we introduce ourselves.

"Torian Crex." Richter repeats my name. "You might have some action in you, but you…" Richter then points to Marissa. Marissa gets startled and she flinches back slightly. "I don't know what you're capable of." He shrugs and digs under his chair and brings up a can of beer. He takes out a glass that already has ice in it, and pours his alcohol into the glass.

"Well, I can throw knives." Marissa states. I already know that she has skills in daggers and knives, so she'll probably be able to breeze through Richter's little 'evaluation'. I take a glance at her fingers, which are rubbing the steak knife that did not use.

"Really now?" Richter says, slightly surprised yet ambiguous. "Show me." As soon as Richter said that she scanned her eyes to the right, picked up the knife and threw it. My eyes follow the knife that soars through the air, spinning. The knife stabs right into one of the falling cupcakes near the sweet section of another table. The cupcake goes through like butter, but it is able to stay on the knife. The knife then plants itself into the wall with the chocolate cupcake still attached to it. I turn back to Richter, who looks like he is thinking.

He then says, "You two might be our shot." He then rises from his seat and says, "Stand up. Let me take a look at you two." We do as he says and he circles around us, examining our physical features so he can be able to see how strong we look.

"Yes." He starts. "One of you two might be the victor." A flood of sadness rushes to my mind when I hear Richter say that only one of us may be the victor. But I must find a way for both of us to make it out as victors. Just maybe there's another way. "So I will tell you two the number one rule of the Hunger Games." We both nod, saying that we understand, and wait for him to answer.

He clears his throat and says, "Survive." That's it. Just one word that may ensure our victory. But it's extremely obvious and pointless for him to say this, especially since no one wants to die in the Games either.

"Why are you telling us this?" I inquire. "Don't you think we already know this?"

"I'm reminding you two that the whole point is to not kill everyone, but to make sure you survive long enough until they die off from many other things of the environment. Trust me, I have already been through this, and so has Trisha." I turn to Trisha, who just only replies with a nod.

"And second," He continues. "Once you get to the Capitol and you're handed to your stylist and prep team, do what they say and don't resist. No excuses if you don't, and no 'but's or 'if's." It feels like a lecture, but he is giving us some useful information.

"And the last thing you'll want and need are sponsors." Richter states. He then explains that sponsors are fans that will give gifts such as food, water, or supplies to their favorite that is in need. He states that we'll have to 'interest' and 'appeal' to the audience in order to get a lot of sponsors. Unfortunately, I am not one for being clever or a joker, but if I'm able to show some of my combat expertise, maybe that'll interest some people.

Richter then starts to explain everything that Trisha told me, but in a nutshell. He explains the opening ceremonies, the training, the Gamemakers' evaluation, and lastly, the Hunger Games Arena.

Sometimes he gets off-topic and fidgets with the disinfectant spray bottle he keeps in his pocket. Marissa seems to understand some of what Richter is saying, but I can tell she doesn't fully get it. _I'll tell her after_, I think, _She'll probably a lot better if I explained it._

A couple seconds after the conversation, the train goes black, as if it was night. But I'm pretty sure that we are just passing by one of the carpal tunnels inside of the mountain near the Capitol. And soon after we are out of the tunnel, it is. The Capitol is fully seen and looks almost beautiful. But I don't let this distract me.

Marissa goes to her room to change and comes back almost in a few seconds. She then goes near the window and looks outside of the luxurious scenery of the Capitol.

"Wow…" She muttered, taking in the full beauty of the outside view of Capitol. But what is inside of the Capitol is disgusting and revolting. We are soon transported to the Capitol train station, where people were lined on the sidelines and many people were taking pictures.

"Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Trisha says, standing next to me. I look back a Marissa, who is actually waving the crowd. I don't know if she's trying to or not, but I think she's getting sponsors. I keep a distance from the window, mostly because I don't like reporters or camera crews all that much, but Marissa seems to be taking it rather well.

"You see, that's how you get sponsors." Richter whispers into my ear, pointing to her. I give him a face that says, "I know that…" and I look back at Marissa. It has all seem to become clear to me now. How she acted this morning and yesterday, how interested she was in Richter's explanations, and how serious she was when throwing that knife into the cupcake. It is now clear now that she wants to survive the Games. And she must be prepared for one thing in order to survive.

Marissa, the queen of the blades, must be prepared to kill me.


End file.
